


The Morning After

by Spiffing



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiffing/pseuds/Spiffing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after a party he does not quite remember the details of, Ed finds himself in a bed he does not recognise, completely bare, lying beside someone who is definitely not Yvette in equal state of undress, snoozing gently away without a care in the world... One problem: that someone happens to be George Osborne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> This fic could be seen as being set months following after the Antiques Roadshow fic or simply a standalone fic.

Waking up, he experienced a killer headache, one that usually follows after a night of heavy drinking. He cursed at himself because he promised he wouldn’t, at least not when he’s still a politician and the children are still young. He tried to stretch but found an extra limb draped over his chest. He stared at it, uncomprehending. It was pale, smooth. The fingers were long, elegant. It could almost pass as Yvette’s arm but noting the neatly close clipped finger nails and the fine dark hairs on the arm, it definitely was not hers. The rest of the body hid under the covers. He looked around the room in an attempt to place where he was. The wallpaper looked faintly familiar but the room itself was not one he believed he had seen before. He frowned then, his mind sluggishly coming to the conclusion that he should not be here and that the warm body pressed against his side was that of a stranger.

He tried to recall what had happened the previous night. There was a party and drinking and a lot of questionable dancing and singing... Though that was as far and as much that he could remember. He didn’t at all recall going to bed with someone else. His mind conjured up the complications this could entail. He would have to come clean to Yvette. He wondered what she would say, how she would take it. Would she think he had deliberately cheated on her? He didn’t mean for this to happen. In fact, this was the first time this sort of thing has happened to him since he and Yvette first started dating each other.

There was no use dwelling on it, he thought. What’s done is done. It was best to face reality head on. After a moment of hesitance, Ed decided to see just who he had bedded last night. Lifting up the duvet, he was shocked to discover George Osborne sleeping beside him, in equal state of undress as Ed was. In his shock, Ed threw the duvet off of both of them just to be sure he wasn’t imagining things only to figure out too late that in doing so was a mistake. Ed couldn’t help but stare, wide eyed, down at the stark Chancellor while feeling a mix of confusion and fascination. The younger man was snoozing away softly without a care in the world. He looked at peace, human, and impossibly younger, even. His dark locks of curls were in disarray, a fringe of them having fallen across his forehead. His skin was remarkably pale white and virtually unblemished... except for the faded scar across his abdomen and the bruises at his hips. Ed’s index finger traced the scar curiously while he frowned upon seeing the bruises, wondering if it was he who did that to him.

As he tried to jog his memory as to how he went from the party to this room, Ed’s gaze absentmindedly fell on the items on the bedside table behind Osborne. There was an expensive looking but distasteful lamp, a well leafed through copy of one of Frances Osborne’s novels, a tube of lube, a few scattered packets of condoms... and a framed picture of Osborne and his wife, Frances, on their wedding day. It was as though clarity was injected right through his brain as he abruptly snatched his hand back, dread and horror sinking in. The implications were clear now, on what happened last night and what they did the previous night.

And then he remembered what had happened.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Ed cursed.

Moving Osborne’s arm off of him, Osborne’s facial features turned into a pout and he gave a small whine. Eyebrows shooting up, Ed pulled away from Osborne much quicker, getting himself out of the bed, grimacing at the shards of pain that gripped his head. Ed looked around for his clothes and found them scattered on the floor, mingled with Osborne’s.

Glancing at his wrist watch, Ed saw he needed to hurry if he wanted to get to work on time. He quickly grabbed his pants and trousers and pulled them up. His eyes fell on Osborne again. His mouth dried at the sight of the man, naked and vulnerable infront of him. Ed wasn’t sure if he’d be able to face Osborne in public again without being reminded that he had seen the younger man naked.

“Osborne,” Ed hissed suddenly, snapping out of his trance.

He decided that Osborne needed to wake up too, what with him working in the cabinet. The man didn’t wake though. Rolling his eyes, Ed tried again.

“ _George_.”

Osborne didn’t move and merely grunted.

“Wake up, you Tory sloth,” Ed snapped, throwing a cushion from the settee at the end of the bed at Osborne’s face.

Osborne groaned and batted the cushion away. He rolled from his side onto his back, showing an impressive erection that stood tall and solid against his belly. It made Ed aware of his own erection that he had initially ignored in his rush to get up out of bed. Ed snatched his shirt up off the floor, looking away, before glancing over at Osborne again in annoyance.

“Come on. Get up,” Ed muttered, reaching over and shook the man’s bare shoulder.

“Mmrgh...” Osborne sounded, his eyes opening up beadily.

“Get up,” Ed repeated, louder and firmer, giving another shake before retreating back.

Osborne groaned, his hands flying up to his head.

“No... Head _hurts_ ,” Osborne mumbled. He then huffed before he asked, “Time?”

“Ten past seven,” Ed replied swiftly, putting on his shirt.

Osborne’s eyes flew open, those hazel eyes darting up to Ed’s blues. Osborne immediately grabbed the duvet and pulled it over his body. Bewilderment and confusion was written all over his face and his mouth opened and closed, producing no words, at the sight of Ed. If it were any normal circumstance, Ed would have laughed. This was no normal circumstance. Ed did not laugh.

“What...” Osborne barely managed, trying to piece together what had happened just as Ed had done.

“You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before,” Ed said, trying to smirk but failing. “Get dressed.”

“What the hell happened last night?” Osborne demanded, sounding baffled rather than angry.

“Beats me,” Ed lied, shrugging. “Aren’t you late for work?”

Osborne stared at Ed, unseeing, before it seemed realisation settled in. His cheeks revealed a light pink tinge to them a moment later. Osborne shook his head, looking somewhat amused, but then he grimaced at what the movement caused to his headache. Rapidly, without obvious cause, Osborne looked miserable. Shoulders slumped, he sighed deeply before pulling the duvet over himself.

“What’s the point?” Osborne muttered, his head ducking under the covers too.

Ed watched as the figure under the covers shift, curling into himself. Ed’s eyebrows furrowed. He wondered where Osborne’s enthusiasm had gone to, trying to figure out what’s going on in Osborne’s head at the moment.

“What’s the point?” Ed repeated, laughing a little derisively as he did a singular cutting motion in the air with one flat palm facing up. “In case you’ve forgotten, _Osborne_ , you’re the Chancellor of the Exchequer. It’s no wonder that nobody in their right mind takes you seriously. You don’t even take your own job seriously.”

Osborne didn’t say anything. Ed snorted, shaking his head.

“Part-time Chancellor indeed,” Ed muttered.

Suddenly something large catapulted towards Ed’s head. He managed to side step it quickly in reflex before realising it was merely a pillow. Ed threw his head back and laughed, turning to Osborne whose head re-appeared above the covers, his eyes sending a glare Ed’s way.

“Oh, shut up, Ed,” Osborne snapped, sounding wounded. “I’m getting it from Miliband, Dorries, and countless of other people. I don’t need it from you right now.”

Ed sobered, if only a little, and gave Osborne a look of amused scepticism.

“What did you expect? Am I or am I not your political opponent?” Ed questioned with a slight jeer.

“Don’t you have a rule where the bedroom is a politics free zone?” Osborne countered.

Ed looked away, rolling his eyes.

“Doesn’t apply here,” Ed stated shortly.

Osborne didn’t say anything. Ed glanced at him to see him looking at him thoughtfully rather than with hurt which was a relief. Ed had found in the past that the younger man’s reactions were difficult to predict sometimes. The expression on Osborne’s face on the other hand made Ed feel somewhat self conscious but Ed pretended he wasn’t bothered and turned to face his reflection on the mirror in the room. The silence carried on a few more seconds before Osborne nodded slowly before he spoke up.

“I see,” Osborne said, subdue, as the corner of his lips quirking up in a faint smile. He tilted his head slightly to the side and continued thoughtfully, “You should take a shower. You wouldn’t want Yvette suspecting something occurred last night. Especially with the likes of me.”

“I have to tell her, you know,” Ed said, crossing his arms as he stared at Osborne hard, wondering if infidelity or polygamy was something Osborne went by.

Osborne shrugged.

“Do whatever you want,” Osborne said, looking unconcerned. “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you smell of sex.”

“There’s not enough time.”

Osborne rolled his eyes.

“Then _make_ time,” Osborne said in a stoutly manner. He waved over to the closed door in the room. “Use my bathroom.”

Ed snorted. “Well, I can’t stay.”

There was a pause. Osborne simply watched him, observing Ed once again.

“I’m not asking you to stay but I see you haven’t left either.”

Ed turned back Osborne to see him staring at Ed, his dark eyes seemingly challenging him. Ed stared back unflinchingly, his jaw loosely set while wondering what last night meant for them now. But Ed knew, without needing to ask, that this is one of those moments where there needs no questioning. Last night was a bit of harmless fun, it was just sex. That was it, nothing has changed; at least Ed hoped so, otherwise any changed views and feelings towards Osborne would compromise Ed’s thoughts of Osborne and Ed’s political stance. The fact that Ed knew Osborne well enough to understand from their seemingly unrevealing conversation was enough to be said and something Ed did not want to think any deeper about that, uncertain and perhaps not wanting to know what that really means.

When neither man moved for a solid minute or two, Osborne was the one who glanced away, his pale face having taken on a blank look in a split second. He then slowly, gingerly, shifted himself onto the side of the bed, still covering himself with the duvet. He swiftly stood up on his feet before decisively throwing the duvet back onto the bed. Completely bare compared to Ed’s half state of dress, Osborne’s gaze returned to Ed and he began moving, unsure and steady, until he was standing right infront of Ed, close enough to feel his warmth but not enough for their bodies to touch. Ed didn’t move. Didn’t dare to move. He kept a straight face, staring right back. But then Osborne leaned forward, slowly, the end of their noses brushed, his hazel eyes wide. Ed’s eyes closed by themselves and he waited with a beaten breath for whatever was going to happen next. Unexpected was the sudden lost of Osborne’s hovering presence followed shortly by the sounds of water flowing from a tap. Ed opened his eyes to find himself in an empty bedroom.

Ed breathed out, and looked around the room. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do or why he was still here if last night didn’t mean anything. Then he tried searching for his tie but he only managed to find Osborne’s turquoise coloured one on the floor. Ed glanced towards the in suite bathroom where Ed presumed that George was inside showering.

Resigned, Ed walked over to the doorway of the bathroom and wandered in.

“George? Have you seen my...”

Ed trailed off. He had moved past the glass panel but stopped short and was now staring at Osborne who Ed caught in mid wank, the other hand clutching onto Ed’s crumbled tie.

“I thought you’d have left already,” Osborne said lazily, dropping his hand.

“What are you doing with my tie?” Ed demanded incredulously.

“It was already ruined,” Osborne said instead, ignoring the way the warm water was spraying against the side of his flushed poker face and continued staring right at Ed. “You’re going to have to buy a new one.”

“It was perfectly fine!” Ed growled, glaring daggers at Osborne who didn’t seem fazed at all.

“Not after last night it wasn’t,” Osborne said, raising an eyebrow. “You made a tear into in last night. Look at it yourself.”

He tossed the tie at Ed. While Ed caught it, the water that came with the drenched tie seeped into Ed’s shirt. Ed cursed. Osborne simply laughed.

Suddenly something snapped. In a knee jerk reaction, Ed launched forward, shoving Osborne back against the tile wall of the shower cubical, pinning him there with one hand wrapped around Osborne’s throat. Osborne, eyes wide, no longer laughing, struggled to breathe, his hands attempting to push Ed off of him, his movements becoming desperate. It was then Ed noticed that his thumb was pressing down on Osborne’s windpipe ever so gradually. He immediately pulled away, stumbling back until his back touched the wall away from George, against the adjacent tiled wall. He had no idea what he was thinking, what he was doing. He recalled feeling a sharp stroke of anger but now he was ashamed. The flash thought that George was playing with him was no reason to resort to physical violence. The other man probably didn’t realise that Ed felt as though his emotions were being toyed with. He wasn’t sure what to think about the man infront of him anymore.

Meanwhile, George coughed and spurted, getting air and a few stray water drops into him at the same time. His trembling body remained pressed against the wall, his eyes glued on Ed, frightened and unsure. The insides of Ed twisted. It was never meant to turn out this way.

“Shit. George. I---.”

George cut him off, curt but thick. “I’ll buy you a new tie.”

Ed closed the gap before George could slip away, pressing his lips against the other man’s, gentle and apologetic. George didn’t move for a moment, frozen. Just as Ed pulled away, thinking that his attentions obviously weren’t welcome anymore especially after what he just done, George pressed forward and grabbed a hold of his collar, and crushed their lips together. The kiss was forceful, aggressive. His naked body pressing against Ed was insistent, unyielding, and those long fingers wrapped themselves around his wrists, his iron grip on them began cutting off circulation.

And then George pulled back, letting go of Ed. Ed, surprised with the new sudden turn of events, looked at George to see that the man’s eyes had hardened, hungry, his face set in a confused scowl.

“Clothes off,” George instructed in a beaten breath, his voice low and rough.

Ed found himself complying immediately, pushing off the soaked articles of clothing that was clinging onto him because of the water. He managed to take off his trousers and pants, the last piece, before he was pushed back against the wall, and those fingers wrapped themselves around Ed’s erect cock, giving him a gentle squeeze. Ed groaned and opened his eyes to see George smirking at him, his eyes holding a mischief glint as he shuffled closer. They stared at each other, eyes dilated and heated. It was strangely intimate and Ed couldn’t help sinking into those hazel eyes... until George began moving his hand, slow but steady as his hand tugged him up and down, setting a rhythm. George suddenly flicked his thumb over the head, causing Ed to jerk forward, hiding his face in the crook of his neck as he moaned. George, his eyes fixed on Ed’s determinedly, did it again and again, driving Ed insane, before the grip tightened a little more and his hand picked up speed, sliding up and down his shaft faster. Blood rushing loudly through his ears, his heart racing and hammering in his chest, his breathing became ragged and he could feel himself getting close. Suddenly the build up became too much to bare. His hips bucks and he comes. He was left gasping, having almost been blinded by the intensity and had to lean against the wall, gripping George’s shoulders tightly to steady himself.

“Okay?” came a soft voice.

Ed couldn’t speak, too dazzled to even form a string of coherent words. He simply nodded and let go of George’s shoulders, unable to meet George’s eyes. He was about to offer to return the gesture, seeing that George was still hard, but George shook his head. He stepped out of the shower before wrapping a towel around his waist. Ed finally looked up to see that George, too, avoided his gaze.

“I’ll pop these in the wash and let you finish off,” George murmured, picking up Ed’s wet clothing off the floor.

And then he walked straight out of the bathroom.

As Ed began washing himself up and gradually come down from his high, he began feeling like shit. He almost killed a man. He dropped the soap a few times because of how his hands shook at thinking back to what had just happened. So he almost killed a guy. So what? He came to his senses before it did become murder. But the fact that he almost did strangle George to death, and the fact that it went from that to being given a hand job made Ed’s insides squirm uncomfortably. By the time Ed stepped out of the bathroom, he was riddled with guilt and he didn’t like it.

George entered the bedroom from the other door just as Ed stepped in from the bathroom. They looked at each other and Ed was going to say something then but the pre-stutter prevented him. The moment passed found George walking up to the drawer and grab out some clothes.

“You can wear these in the meantime,” George said, handing Ed a crisp white shirt, a pair of boxers, and trousers.

Ed slowly accepted them, his fingers brushing against George’s. George turned and began moving back to the draw when Ed gently took his elbow.

“George.”

George turned to Ed, his eyes briefly flickering to where Ed touched him before looking at Ed questioningly.

“I... I’m sorry,” Ed apologised, letting go of his elbow. “I never meant to... hurt you.”

George studied him for a moment before he gave a faint smile. “I know.”

A moment passed and then George moved away, grabbing clothes out for himself to wear. They didn’t say a word as they dressed. They didn’t say a word as George lead them to the kitchen where he made them coffee and toast as they waited for the clothes to finish in the washer and dryer. It was nearing eight but Ed had decided he could make time.

The silence was broken when Ed spoke up, having noticed that there was something about the Number Ten flat that didn’t feel right.

“So. Where are your kids?” Ed asked, trying for casual.

“With my sister in law,” came a neutral reply. “I hardly have the time to take care of them as much I had and would like to have.”

“... and where’s Frances?” Ed followed up, watching George carefully.

George’s eyes darted over to Ed, confused perhaps as to why Ed had asked.

“Not here. Obviously.”

“Why?”

“She left me,” George murmured, a small distant smile on his lips.

Ed’s reaction was immediate. Surprised, confused, worried and a little bit disturbed. George’s reaction on the other hand was not something one would expect when telling someone a significant other had left them.

“She _left_ you?”

“Well, that’s what I said.”

“What happened?”

When George didn’t answer, instead placing his attention on spreading some weird green paste over the toast slices, Ed prompted him. “George?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” George finally said, somehow able to look smug. “Just because we’ve had sex and you’ve almost successfully killed me---.”

“George---.”

“---doesn’t mean I’m obliged to tell you everything and anything that’s going on in my life,” George finished with a flourish. “Coffee?”

Ed watched him for a moment, his eyes staring intensely at George, who stared pleasantly back, before Ed gave up, throwing his hands up. Typical George.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” George said, passing over a mug steaming hot coffee.

Ed accepted, it blew off the steam and took a drink.

“How long has it been?” Ed quietly asked.

George sighed.

“Over a month now.”

“You certainly kept it quiet.”

George chuckled, sounding hollow.

“I like to keep my private life private. David doesn’t know either and he’s one of my closest friends.”

Ed shifted awkwardly. Knowing that he knew something that Cameron didn’t about George felt weirdly empowering.

George’s eyes slowly trailed him up and down.

“How are you and Yvette?” George asked.

“Fine.”

George raised an eyebrow.

“Just fine?”

“Busy. It’s... difficult sometimes. Coordinating between work and home. Both of us being in parliament and all. We’re doing alright.”

George nodded in understanding.

“Do you... know where she is? Frances.” Ed asked George.

George shrugged, looking thoughtful.

“She and Justine went away together on a holiday,” George revealed.

Ed paused, going through the list of Justine’s he knew.

“Justine Greening?” Ed questioned, frowning.

George laughed, amused.

“Oh, no. Justine _Thornton_ ,” George corrected, his eyes twinkling.

“Ed’s Justine?” Ed asked, incredulous.

“She and Frances are quite the duo. Two peas in a pod,” George said with a smile. “They go way back.”

Suddenly he smirked, eyeing Ed knowingly.

“You didn’t know?” George said taking a bite from his toast as he pushed a plate towards Ed.

“Ed never told me...” Ed trailed off, wondering why Ed Miliband had been lying to him the entire month.

“He wouldn’t, would he?” George remarked, tittering softly to himself.

Ed gave George a dirty look before his gaze fell on to the pieces of toast infront of him.

“What is this?”

“Avocado paste,” George happily replied, taking a sip of coffee. “It’s a healthy alternative to margarine and butter. Tastes good too.”

Ed took a bite. It tasted different but strangely nice. He looked at George approvingly. George grinned before stating boredom, suggesting that they take their conversation to the seating room and see what’s on television as they wait.

What did this all mean? Did any of these revelations mean anything? In fact, what exactly has been revealed about the situation, about the relationships, about others', about himself. He could feel there were bits and pieces that were plain and clear, some that were missing, yet he could not completely decipher and understand. There seemed to be more than meets the eye, tips of icebergs of secrets revealing themselves that he couldn't quite reach. Ed wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know at this moment of time.


End file.
